My Son John
by geecoral
Summary: John MacTavish's mother speaks out about about her son. Set in 2011. Rated T for Language.


**A/N:** This was written for my A-Level English Language course, under a monologue unit for practise coursework. I went a bit nuts with it, creating a whole different world altogether, so I thought I'd share it with you all here! There is a lot of Scottish dialect in this piece, as, of course, the MacTavish family are Scottish! I hope you pick up on it soon and please enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Call of Duty or anything related to their franchise. I also do not own Scotland. If I did, kilts would be compulsory, especially in windy weather.

* * *

Look at this picture. Twinking blue eyes, just like his Pa...turned oot like him too.

John was always so good growing up: came home on time, played football on a Sunday (as Captain of the team, ah'll have ye know), went to church before football (raised him good Roman Catholic, ah did), had a bunch of friends and not all of them were angels but he still kept his name away from the police.

The police were no strangers to my other sons, though. Jerry, my youngest, was the worst. All into sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, except the Punk version. Ah personally donnae even know the difference. It's all the same tae me. Ye won't tell anyone he still lives at home, will ye?

My oldest son lives in Germany. Lord knows why. Says it's "better fur business" and "prospective". Ah said whit's more prospective than staying in Scotland? Ah've lived here my whole life, in this beaut of a city named Elgin. It's three hours north of Glasgae, fur all ye wondering. By the beach it is and whisky capital too and whit's so bad about that?

Ah blame their Pa fur their behaviour. When we split up - when he divorced me, everything changed. At least Jenny is still here and doing well fur herself. That's my youngest and my only daughter and she is beautiful. Look at this picture of her. This was taken 2001 and she was only wee. That there is my current partner - Jenny doesn't know he isn't really her Pa.

Ah blame their Pa fur a lot of things. Fracturing my perfect family, driving me into the arms of another man while still pregnant with his baby, making John leave fur the Paras as soon as he could. Joining the Paras was always John's dream and his Pa never believed he could do it. "Ye too soft," his used tae say, sat in his armchair with a cigar in one hand and scotch in the other. Like he was all high and mighty. "They eat faggots like ye fur breakfast." Then he would go into a rambling and usually fabricated story aboot his service through the Gulf War. Ah knew he was a good soldier, but ah also knew he'd never stand a chance against 30 enemies alone, no matter how much he insisted. Ah used tae roll my eyes and tell him tae drink his scotch. Ah wasn't scared of him back then.

It was probably his Pa's derogatory comments that caused John tae join the Paras as soon as he turned of age. My partner and ah drove him doon tae Colchester fur his interview and selection. Colchester is in Essex, if ye didnae know already. Strange place, isn't it? The lassies wear belts fur skirts doon there.

Ah could never relive my pride of seeing John in his uniform at his Passing Oot parade. He seemed tae have grown up so much through our time apart. Admittedly, ah got a wee bit emotional and threw my arms aroond one of the Officers. Bowler, he name was. He was a Lieutenant back then and Lord knows whit and where he is now. Had a lovely smile whenever he did.

That pride subsided when John came back from his first tour of Northern Ireland. He had been granted leave so came up tae Scotland fur a week. At 20 years old, he was clean-shaven and his hair was sliced off. Ah used tae love his hair when it was longer - jet black and fluffy, but ah guess these Para lot don't care much fur fluffy hair. Anyway, he came back and instantly ah could see the fire in his eyes. He couldnae sit still, had tae always go oot tae the gym or fur a run - always had tae be somewhere other than home. Ah even heard from Mrs Chrisholme he slept with her daughter, Lochina (aye, the blasted woman named her daughter Loch). John and Loch were friends as children but John knew ah hated the Chrisholme family with every fibre of me. They were all so...ungodly. When he returned home later after ah found oot, ah shouted at him and he shouted back. He had never shouted at me before.

Ah should've known it was tae git worse from there.

_Fade to black_

Ah sit in this chair a lot, by the fire, tae think. Think ah should be knitting in my tender age instead of worrying my socks off every day. My husband says ah shouldnae worry, that it's bad fur my health. Maybe it is but how can ah not?

Two phonecalls have ruined my life so far. One today and the other not too long ago. Blasted technology. Now whit's so wrong with a good old-fashioned letter?

The first phonecall was from John, o' course. He is the only one who could break my world so easily. "Got something tae tell ye, Ma," came his voice doon the phone. Ah was sure he was gitting less Scottish everytime ah spoke tae him.

Ah said, "oh aye, make it quick. Ah want tae know how ye lassie is." Ah was making a casserole at this time.

He paused and told me he wasnae with her anymore. In fact, the bastard didnae even live in Colchester anymore, let alone still be in the Paras!

Tae say the least, ah was shocked. Should've known it wasn't a good thing like ah originally thought, because John likes tae jump from one extreme tae the bloody other.

Not bothering tae discuss why he and his lass broke up, ah asked him where he was and whit he planned on doing.

"Oh, ah have another job, Ma," he quickly responded. "But ye not gonnae like it...have ye ever heard of the SAS?"

Ah jist aboot exploded with anger.

_Fade to black_

The second phonecall was aboot John, surprise, surprise. A woman on the phone who sounded like she had barely got through university informed me John was in Birmingham hospital and in a critical state. Ah said ye've got tae be kidding me. Birmingham's shite.

But when ah put the phone doon, ah won't lie, ah cried. My husband came hoome from work a few hours later and still found me crying intae a glass of scotch. He didnae even mind that it was his ah was drinking and he never would.

We drove doon tae Birmingham the next morning with my husband booked off work and Jenny booked off school. As a 11 year old girl, she didnae really mind and spent most the journey with her ears plugged in while tapping on her phone. Ah couldnae really understand why people didnae jist do one thing at a time. How can ye listen tae music while giggling away at ye friends?

Ah couldnae tell ye how nervous ah was tae approach the hospital. Ah'd seen horrific images of wounded soldiers online and on the television and wondered if John would look the same.

We were taken up tae the Military Ward which ah was pleased they had. Soldiers deserved at least some dignity, but ah expected John tae be sectioned off in a secret room in the middle of no where due tae his job in the Special Forces.

He lay in a four-bed room with two other soldiers and an empty bed. Ah wondered silently where that missing soldier was - buried or at home, recovered. Ah hoped tae God it was the latter.

The next part was a blur as ah saw John and as the nurse described his condition. Something aboot emergency surgery and a lucky escape. Ah mumbled something aboot our Lord's love and protection, although ah couldnae git my head aroond why God would let this happen tae my boy.

Jenny was the first tae approach his sleeping body. She didnae seem tae mind all the wires and held his limp hand. Ah hadnae seen him in years and ah noticed how his hair was longer in the middle. It used tae be all shaved off. Ah stood at his side and stroked it. The nurse explained he was under heavy pain medication so slept a lot.

It must have been hours of me chatting shite away tae him before he woke, telling him aboot Elgin, whit he had missed and how much ah loved and missed him. We even got talking tae the two other soldiers in the room. One was Navy and the other in Logistics. Ah remember John's Pa calling Logistics "blanket carriers" and ah nearly chuckled tae myself. Ah hope the laddie didnae notice.

Anyway, ah told John ah hoped he bloody well learned his lesson, that Special Forces was clearly a step too far for him, that he was better off back in the Paras, back with his girlfriend in Colchester. "An' while ahm at it," ah said tae him, "why did ye split from her, anyway?"

The bastard had the cheek tae tell me tae keep my voice doon and stop whining in his ear.

The bastard. Where has my son gone?


End file.
